Susie listened in rapt silence and when Lizzie had finished she had said simply, ‘I wish I could have met her. She sounds amazing.’
Lizzie nodded. ‘She was. You would have got on very well, I think.’
Susie gave her a searching look. ‘I thought you were carrying around something sad. I’m touched that you’ve talked to me about it.’
Lizzie realised how good it felt to be talking about her sister. She liked remembering her. It felt important. ‘I’m glad to have you to talk to,’ she said.
Susie smiled and lifted her glass. ‘To Bea,’ she said.
Lizzie tapped her glass against Susie’s. ‘To Bea.’
After that evening, something in Lizzie changed. It was a small change, nothing major but a change nonetheless. She felt lighter in her being somehow, as if someone was there to support her. She had someone to turn to.
So the plans for the book group moved on apace. Lizzie realised that when Susie said she would do something, she meant it. Lizzie found this reassuring too. She wasn’t given the chance to let self-doubt take hold. They put up posters inviting people to pop into the bookshop to buy a copy of the book and receive a voucher for a discounted coffee. It worked a treat and Lizzie had one or two interested customers calling in every day.
One of them was a blousy fifty-something lady with an impressive bosom and a penchant for leopard print. She introduced herself as Carol and confided that, ‘I’m more of a Jackie Collins sort of girl but if it gets me out of the house away from my couch-potato husband, I’ll give anything a go!’ she had declared, slapping the book on the counter.
Her declaration was met with wrinkled-nosed disdain by the serious, moley looking man behind her in the queue. After Carol had gone, he made his way forwards to pay and addressed Lizzie as one might address the UN.
‘I hope that we’ll be able to explore some more heavyweight material?’ he said sniffily. ‘The Russian novels perhaps?’
Lizzie felt a little out of her depth but did her best to reassure him. ‘We’re going to let each member have a chance to choose.’
The man nodded and seemed satisfied. ‘I’m Brian by the way.’
By the day of the first book group meeting, Lizzie was experiencing a mixture of nerves and excitement. She had read the book again, done some research, made some notes, and felt as ready as she could be. Susie had sorted the refreshments and there promised to be eight people attending that evening. Susie had told her that Ben was planning to come along and Lizzie had been surprised. She hadn’t thought it would be his scene. Susie had obviously picked up on her reaction.
‘He loves that book. I think he sort of thinks he owns it really so he probably wants to come along to make sure no one’s disrespectful,’ Susie joked.
Lizzie couldn’t say she was delighted at the prospect but he couldn’t be all bad if he shared favourites with her sister.
Lizzie was feeling upbeat as she moved around her flat that morning. She had decided to open Bea’s next letter before she went to work. She had to admit that she was looking forward to it. It had started to become a sacred ritual, almost as if she was being allowed the chance to spend time with Bea again. She also had to admit that despite her initial reservations, the first two letters had brought her nothing but positive experiences. She was enjoying this journey with Bea as her guide. As she unfolded the next letter and read her sister’s words, her mood began to change.
Dear Lizzie,
I really hope that you have succeeded in finding a new friend. I hope he or she will give you the support you need and help you to open your world up to other people. You are such a lovely person but you don’t always see it. I hope you are starting to understand this now.
So now you have someone other than me to talk to, I have to confess that this next wish is going to be a challenge. To be honest, I considered postponing this until later on but sometimes, a truth has to be faced and putting it off doesn’t help.
So I’m just going to say it. I want you to go and see Mum. I know. It’s not going to be easy. I know why you left and I know the hurt never really went away. I can still remember that day. I had come home for the weekend and as I let myself into the house on that Friday night, I could hear voices. Actually it was Mum’s voice. You were silent but I knew you were there. She was ranting and raving. I don’t think I’d ever heard her so angry. As I came up the stairs and walked into your room, I could see her standing over you as you sat on the floor by your bed, hugging your knees and crying. Mum didn’t even notice me. She was lost in her anger and her words flew out like machine gun fire. I know every word was like a poisonous dart of unspoken truths to you, Lizzie. I know you took every word to your heart and stored them there for the next fifteen years. I know you thought she meant every word and I know that’s why you had to leave. When you both noticed me standing there, Mum stopped ranting. She seemed to get control of herself then but she walked out and left me to comfort you. I know you felt you had no alternative but to go then, that you felt unwanted and unloved. I suppose I did my best by taking you back to London with me but part of me has always wished that you could have resolved what happened that day. It was a moment’s madness that lasted a lifetime.
So I know how hard this is going to be. If I’m brutally honest, I don’t know if I would do it if I were you but I think that you should try. I am hoping that you now have people you can call on for support to help you face this.
So, go and see Mum, Lizzie. Talk to her, really talk to her. Tell her about the hurt you’ve been holding onto for so long. Listen to what she has to say and make her listen to you too. The thing is, you two are probably more similar than you realise or want to admit.
I don’t think I helped your relationship either but as I’m not around to get in the way any more, (see how I help you out by dying?) I think you can start to be honest with one another. There will be anger and there will be tears but I love you both very much and if you trust me, you will give it a try.
You need each other. You just don’t realise it yet.
Love you,
Bea x
Lizzie put down the letter. Her hands were shaking and she realised that this was due to a furious surge of anger which was coursing through her body like a volcano erupting having lain dormant for so many years. Her mind was racing. She wasn’t angry with Bea so much although she dearly wished that she could talk to her and question if this really had to be done. Lizzie wasn’t a fool though. She had guessed that Bea’s wishes might take her in this direction at some stage; however she also knew that Bea had understood her hurt and deep-rooted disappointment. On the few occasions that Bea had suggested Lizzie return to Smallchurch, she had been treated to a rare flash of anger from her sister. Bea had never pushed it and Lizzie always thought that this was because she understood there were barriers that could not be crossed. Even when their father was dying, Bea hadn’t pushed her; quite the opposite in fact.
So Lizzie was surprised and a little hurt by this wish. There was too much history, too much time past, too much ill feeling for any good to come of it. She had no great desire to talk to her mother and she was pretty sure Stella would feel the same; in fact her reaction at Bea’s funeral was proof of this fact. She threw the letter to one side. She couldn’t deal with this now. She went downstairs to open the shop, her good mood dissolved and a weight of expectation sitting heavily on her shoulders.
***
The day passed slowly. Lizzie was quiet as she wondered what to do. Bea probably meant for her to discuss this with her new friend but Lizzie wasn’t sure if she was ready to delve into that area of her past. Opening up to discuss memories of someone you loved was one thing but when it related to someone you hated. Hate. Such a strong word. So definitive and final.